


Knight in Kevlar Armor

by unquietspirit



Category: Pundit & Broadcast Journalist RPF (US), Real News RPF
Genre: Fluff, Kevlar kink, M/M, also because we all know Keith takes special notice of Anderson's bulletproof vests, mostly because I wrangled that tag in another fandom and thought it deserved to be RO3'd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 01:16:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unquietspirit/pseuds/unquietspirit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith helps Anderson put on his new body armor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knight in Kevlar Armor

"Who was it?" Keith asked, not looking up from his crossword. He filled in "switchhit" for two down ( _face challenges left and right_ ) as Anderson's footsteps went into the kitchen behind him.

"Delivery guy," Anderson called back. There was the sound of a drawer opening.

"Don't tell me you ordered from that Greek place again."

"Not that kind of delivery."

Keith frowned and pushed himself up from the sofa to see what he meant. He took the crossword with him, muttering "Home of the Shah Faisal Mosque, nine letters," as he stepped through the doorway.

"Islamabad." Anderson was slicing the packing tape of a large, flat box on the counter with one of their steak knives. Keith huffed at him.

"That was musing to myself, not asking for assistance."

"Oh, sorry," he said, dropping the knife back into the drawer and shutting it. "But it's Islamabad."

"I would've remembered in a second," Keith said. "What is that?"

Anderson didn't answer. As Keith watched, he opened the box and removed a Kevlar vest from the plastic bag inside. At least, Keith assumed it was Kevlar. He didn't know enough about body armor to be sure.

"I thought so," Anderson said. "CNN gives me a new one whenever the old one expires."

"They expire?"

"Well, the warrenty expires." He undid the velcro straps holding the sides of the vest together and pulled it on over his head. Keith's mouth watered. "Can you help me fit this?" Anderson asked, fiddling with a shoulder strap. "It's too long. The bottom of it should hit right at my navel."

Keith stepped forward, further into Anderson's space than he strictly needed to be, dropped his crossword and pen on the counter, and brushed Anderson's hands away from the strap. "Like that?" he asked, adjusting it. His voice had gone low and rough.

"Yeah, that's good. I can get the other side."

"I'll do it," Keith said, too fast.

Anderson gave him a confused expression that quickly morphed into incredulity. " _Really?_ "

"What?"

"Don't 'what' me, I know that look. You're turned on," Anderson accused, smirking.

Keith didn't see the point of denying the obvious, so he shrugged as he adjusted the other strap and moved down to the ones on the sides of the vest. "How tight should these be?"

"Just snug," Anderson said. He held his arms out a few inches to give Keith room to fasten them and smiled wider. "I seem to recall you making some crack about my bulletproof vests being custom-made and blue to match my eyes. They aren't, for the record."

Keith sighed. "Haven't I apologized enough for that article?"

"I'm just saying, I never thought you liked me in Kevlar."

He shrugged again and gruffly explained, "I don't like that you have to wear it. Doesn't mean I can't like the way you look in it."

"There's a chemical-biological warfare suit with a gas mask in my office, you know. I could bring them home sometime if you wanted to roleplay."

"Shut up," Keith said, before giving into the temptation to kiss the smirk off his face.

The bulk of the vest between them only made him want to get closer. He pushed Anderson back into the counter and shoved a hand underneath the bottom of the Kevlar, up over the beating heart it protected. With his other hand, he undid Anderson's fly and guided his growing erection through the slit in his underwear. Anderson moaned into his mouth. Keith pulled away to drag his tongue along the edge of the fabric where it met Anderson's neck.

"Keith, if you make me get come stains on my new vest," he panted, running his fingers through Keith's hair, "I'm going to make you handwash it according to the manufactor's in- _fuck_ -structions."

The mental image of Anderson coming _on_ the vest was enough to get Keith fully hard. He moved both hands to Anderson's ass, ignoring his protest, and lifted him onto the counter. Then he closed one fist around a shoulder strap, the other around Anderson's cock, and growled into his ear, "I'll take that as a challenge."

"Of course you will," Anderson said, laughing breathlessly. " _Fucking hell._ "


End file.
